ITINERARY

tell me
how far they lie apart,
as the crow flies,
these realms of
the profane and
those
sacred spaces?

Oracle
coracle

give me the satellite
photos so I might
travel Delos
to Stonehenge
plotting
my itinerary

and here I am now
in the establishing shot
you have figured for me

crossing those rolling plains
centuries before
time of the maximum
alert airbase
and tight
minutemen silos

suddenly, out of nowhere,
a great spine of mountains

upon which
the faces of Kings as
stolid as
chesspieces
(unless these are
the ones who swore
their blood oath
against royalty)

and we
who were, are,
as but dust to them

all soon
will

be gone, like gods,
like the
Great Spirit.

Published by Damian Garside